Rescue Me
by William Easley
Summary: After the big blow-up of "The Kaboom" in November, 2015, some friends from Gravity Falls show up at the Pines door in Piedmont for an intervention. But-who are they rescuing? And from what?
1. Chapter 1

**Rescue Me**

 **(November 12, 2015)**

* * *

" _You are a strange battle-maiden," the helpless, wounded knight whispered. "You rode all this way, through perils untold and the gates of Death itself, to save me from the dragon."_

" _I will save you," she said. "But I tell you this: Sometimes I come to save the prey, but always, always I come to save the dragon."_

 _-The Legend of Kyrie and Kyrien_

* * *

 **1**

That morning Dipper went downstairs and made his own breakfast—well, he had an orange and coffee—and when his mother came into the kitchen, she asked, "Where's Mabel?"

"I don't know," Dipper said in a dull voice. "Haven't seen her this morning."

She went to the foot of the stairs and called: "Mabel! I don't want you to be late for school!"

No answer came, and Mrs. Pines, grunting in annoyance, climbed the stair. Alex Pines came into the dining room, poured himself a cup of coffee, and grabbed a protein bar from the pantry. Not much of a breakfast, but it was about what he usually had. "How's Mabel this morning?" he asked as he sat beside Dipper.

"I don't—"

"She's gone!" Mrs. Pines said from the doorway.

"Gone?" Mr. Pines asked, sounding astonished.

Dipper jumped up and hurried to the kitchen. He opened the door into the garage. "Our car's gone," he said. "I guess she went to school early."

"Or ran away," Mom said. "Alex, call her."

Mr. Pines took out his phone and pressed a speed-dial number. He listened. "Straight to voice mail," he said.

Dipper pushed his unfinished breakfast away. "Dad, drive me to the school," he said. "Let's see if she's there before—"

"I'll get ready," Wanda, who was still in her bathrobe, said.

"No need for that," Alex told her. "It's ten minutes from here. I'll be right back with some kind of word."

They got into Alex's car, he backed out of the garage and into the cul-de-sac, and he said, "She wouldn't run away from home, would she?"

"Dad, I don't know," Dipper said. "She's upset."

"An understatement."

When Alex pulled into the school parking lot, Dipper sighed with relief. "There's the car," he said. The vibrant green Carino was way down on the edge, the spot to which juniors were relegated. "Drop me off there."

He got out, opened the Carino, and then shook his head. "I'll find her in school," he said. "You call Mom and let her know Mabel came here instead of running away somewhere. I'll call as soon as I find her."

It was way early, and the classrooms had not yet been unlocked. Dipper walked down to the cafeteria, where seven o'clock scholars sat waiting for something to happen. For learning to crank up. Something. About twenty students dotted the tables, some in little groups of three or four, some singletons.

As he made his way over, his phone chimed: Mom. "Your father said he saw her car. You check and make sure—"

"I can see her," Dipper said. "She's OK. She's at school."

"Let me talk to her. She's not answering her phone."

Mabel was in the very back, hunched over a table. She looked up as he walked over. "Mom wants to talk to you," he said, holding out his phone.

She gave it an angry look. "I'm busy right now," she said loudly.

Dipper held the phone up to his ear. "She's bu—"

"I heard her," Mom said. "All right, I know she's there." She hung up.

"Are you Mom's spy now?" Mabel asked in a nasty voice.

He sat down beside her. "No. She's worried about you, though. You came to school so early. What's the idea, Mabel?"

She had her head propped on her hand, and she turned away from him. He saw she was working on some math. "Homework," she said. "Didn't do it last night."

"Did you eat anything before you left?"

"I didn't want anything."

Dipper got up and went to the cold bar and picked up a container of milk and a banana. He brought it back. "Here. Eat something."

She snapped her pencil point on the paper. From between clenched teeth, she said, "I'm not hungry!"

"Whoa," Dipper said. "Come on, Sis. It's me, remember?"

"Just leave me alone!"

"No chance," he said. He held out a fist. "Mystery Twins."

She glared at him, but gave him a half-hearted fist-bump. Then she picked up the banana, peeled it, and crammed half of it into her mouth.

"You'll make yourself sick," he said.

"Good," she mumbled through a mouthful of banana.

"Mabel, please. You can't—I don't know—declare war on Mom!"

"Why not? I feel like it." She gulped and stuffed the other half of the banana in.

"Come on, please."

She waited until she swallowed, and then in a furious, low tone, she said, "You know why I came to school at seven damn o'clock in the morning? I didn't want to see her! I just wanted out of that house! I may not even go back—"

"That will only make things worse," Dipper said.

"Stop being reasonable!" She opened the milk and took a big swig. "Why aren't you mad at me? I screwed up everything."

"I can't be mad at the Alpha twin," he said.

She scowled and shook her head. "The poop-head twin." She turned the sheet of homework around and slipped it toward him. "Look at this for me. Is this the way to solve using the sine?"

He glanced at the problem. "Yeah, you got it."

"I'm surprised. I'm not even sure how I did it." She took out a little pencil sharpener and put a point back on her pencil. Without meeting his gaze, she mumbled, "Dipper, I'm sorry."

"Mabel, I know how mad you are, but we can't change what happened."

"Where's Blendin Blandin?" she muttered. "If I could go back and tell myself—"

Dipper put his hand on her arm. "But we can't. Don't look back. What we have to do now is look ahead. Find some way to get Mom to see things our way."

She made a rude sound. "I wish she'd just punish me and get it over with," she muttered.

"Dad wants us to talk it out with them on Saturday," Dipper said. "What we ought to do—"

"Is come up with a stupid plan," Mabel snarled. She shook her head and her face became a mask of woe. "I'm so sorry, Dipper. I didn't mean to say that. I'm—I'm just so—I can't—"

"It's OK," Dipper said.

She balled her fists. "Be _mad_ at me! Don't be _nice_!"

"I'm too sad to be mad," he said. "One feeling at a time. Listen: let's you and me think up a proposition for Mom and Dad. We'll suggest a punishment. They can take it or say it's not enough. We'll go back and forth, try to work something out. Negotiate."

"Won't work. Not with Mom."

"Come on," he said. "It's worth a shot. What else have we got?"

After a long, long time, Mabel said almost too softly for him to hear, "Each other."

* * *

 **2**

Wanda Pines felt strange, as if she'd committed some mortal sin—but being a mother—that wasn't wrong. Alex might be so easy-going that he'd let the kids get away with murder, but she wasn't Alex.

Someone had to be the disciplinarian. She really didn't want the role—too much like her own mother—but kids had to learn limits. If it had to be her, it had to be her.

She half-heartedly cleaned the kitchen, which was not really dirty because at dinner and breakfast nobody had eaten much to speak of. She sat at the dining-room table and tried to make a list of things she needed to get done. She got as far as writing down the number 1, sat staring at it for ten minutes, and then gave up.

At nine-thirty, the sound of the garage door opening surprised her. Her first thought was _Mabel's ditched school!_ She hurried to the door into the garage and opened it, ready to confront her wild-child daughter, but to her surprise, instead of Mabel, she saw her husband—and his two uncles, just getting out of his car. "What are you doing home?" she asked, flustered.

"Uncle Stanford called me from the airport," Alex said. "I told Judd I'm taking a mental health day. My uncles needed a ride."

"You're here about Mabel and Dipper," Wanda said. "All the Pines men ganging up on me."

But Stanley stepped forward, reached out, and took both of her hands in his. "Wanda," he said, looking into her eyes, "you're a Pines, too. Come on. We're not ganging up. We're _joining_ you. OK, the kids got themselves into a world of crap. Believe me, you don't want this to fester and get worse. We're just here to talk. We're not gonna force you into any decision."

Fifteen minutes later, on the sofa in the living room, Stanford looked at the photo and passed it to Stanley as he murmured, . "I see why you're concerned. However, it looks as if Dipper is sound asleep."

"Yep," Stanley agreed, staring at the photo. "Little bit of drool at the corner of his mouth."

Alex cleared his throat. "Mabel said the beer bottles were props—"

"Oh, yeah. My empties," Stanley said. "I bring over like a six-pack once a week. I'd know if the kids, or Soos, or anybody, was sneakin' 'em. Nobody is. I don't get drunk, ya understand. One, maybe two a day, and that's my limit. Week or longer to go through the six-pack. Soos doesn't drink beer at all, and neither does Melody. Rosa does, but hers is a Mexican brand, and she only drinks it in restaurants."

"Are you sure Wendy didn't bring it in?" Wanda asked.

Stan whooped with laughter. "Wendy! Not a chance! Wanda, she's a straight-shooter. I offered her a beer once, and she made a face like she'd smelled a skunk and turned it down. Oh, I know her dad will share one with her now and then, but always at home. Nah, Wendy wouldn't supply beer for the kids. Trust me on that."

After a few seconds of silence, Wanda said, "Mabel said it was a joke. But she must learn there are limits! This joke makes Dipper look like—like—and the girls are like sluts! Don't they realize what people would think?"

"Wanda," Stanford said, "they're kids. Even Wendy. Eighteen may be an adult age in the eyes of the law, but biologically, an eighteen-year-old's judgment is still developing. Didn't you ever do anything, well, wild and stupid when you were eighteen?"

"The college fountain that night," Alex said mildly, leaning back and seeming to look up at the ceiling.

She flashed him a furious glance, but then blushed. "That was—nobody was hurt, and I was—I was immature," she said.

"Yes, and you never did it again," Alex said, still finding the ceiling fascinating.

"You learned better," Stanley said. "That's what these kids gotta do too. You have to let 'em grow up their own way. You can't live their lives for them." He leaned forward and looked troubled. "Listen: I wasn't even yet eighteen when one day I screwed up big. I ruined Stanford's chances of going to the college of his dreams—"

"Now, wait," Stanford said.

Stan waved him off. "No, I did. And Mom and Dad were so mad at me—well, Dad was, more than Mom—and he kicked me out of the house. I was so ashamed. I—"

"I should have taken his side," Stanford said. "I didn't. I just stood by and—watched him leave. It was like a knife in my heart. I was so angry that I let my anger come between me and the right thing to do."

"Yeah, and I went out on my own, and—" he swallowed hard. "Wanda, I never saw my Dad or Mom alive again." He fished out a handkerchief and honked his nose. "Me and Ford visited their graves once. A grave's no substitute for a mother, Wanda. Take it from me."

Wanda began, "If she ran away from home, we'd—"

"We don't want her to run away," Alex reminded her.

"And if she goes, Dipper goes too," Stan warned. "He'd go after his Sis. Believe me."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Wanda asked.

Stanford said, "I've never had children. Well, obviously. But if I had—and if they'd done something foolish—I'd collaborate with them. Work out a punishment that's tough but fair. But keep the lines of communication open."

"But she won't talk to me—"

Someone rang the doorbell. Wanda, floundering for words, was almost grateful. "I'll get it," she said. "Probably a package."

She opened the door and stared.

Wendy Corduroy stood there.

"Mrs. Pines," she said, "we gotta talk."


	2. Chapter 2

**Rescue Me**

 **3**

* * *

Wendy froze in her tracks, standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with surprise as she realized who was in the living room. "Stan! Ford! What are you doing here?"

Leaning back on the sofa, Stanley said, "Same thing as you, I bet! How'd you even get here?"

"Drove," Wendy said. "Called Soos and took a day off, told my dad I had an emergency come up with a friend." She looked a little sheepish. "Just cut school. Only have the one class, and we were just reviewing the unit test anyhow, and I got an A on it, so . . . anyway. I left Gravity Falls late last night and drove straight through."

Stanley whistled. "Left like at midnight!" he said. "You must've, to get here this early."

Wendy shrugged. "Mm, a little later than that, but, yeah, I drove all night, just stopped for gas." She looked embarrassed. "Uh, speaking of that—could I use your—"

Alex stood up and pointed. "Down the hall, last door on the left," he said.

Wendy nodded and hurried. Alex turned to Wanda. "I'll bet she didn't even stop for breakfast," he said quietly.

"Why would she drive all this way?" Wanda asked.

Ford said softly, "Because she's a good friend of Mabel's and Dipper's. And she doesn't want anything bad to happen to their family."

Wanda shook her head. "I feel like I'm in the minority," she complained.

Alex went to the front door, opened it, and stood looking outside.

In his most reassuring voice—and the man had charm and a sense of people, give him that—Stanley said, "Like I told you, we're not here to overpower you. Or overrule you, or whatever. But this is a family matter, Wanda. If we don't settle it, it will only get worse for everybody, kids and you and us and all."

"What are you doing?" Wanda asked her husband, who still stood in the open doorway. "Is someone else coming?"

"No. I'm just looking at Wendy's Dart," Alex said, closing the door. "She's got it looking great. And running great, too, I bet. I never met a girl like her." He went to the next room and brought back an extra chair.

They heard a flush, and Wendy came back, still looking a little unsure, a little hesitant. Alex asked, "Are you hungry?"

She flashed him a grateful smile. "Well—I could sure use a cup of coffee," she said.

Alex asked, "Anybody else?"

Stan held up his hand and looked at Ford, who said, "Water would be good."

Alex went into the kitchen and they all heard water running. Then he came to the doorway and leaned against the doorjamb. "Be ready in a couple of minutes," he said. "Sit down, Wendy. Take the armchair. I brought another in for myself."

Wendy nodded, though she remained standing. She bit her lip and then said, "First off, Mrs. Pines—"

"Wanda," Alex suggested.

"Mrs. Pines," Wendy said. "I don't have the right to first names yet. First off, I want to apologize to you. This whole mess is mostly my fault. I was the oldest one there. I should've cut it short before anything happened. I failed you. Worse, I failed Dipper and most of all Mabel. I'm so ashamed of myself, so sorry."

"It wasn't your idea," Wanda said. Then she managed a smile. "Oh, go on and sit down. And Wanda is fine. I'm happy that you all think so highly of Mabel, but look at what she did! If that photo ever got out, what would happen to the other girls?"

Stanley held up the picture for Wendy to see. She winced a little. "Well . . . Grenda would probably want copies. Pacifica would want one, too, but she'd tell us to hide it from her boyfriend. Candy—I don't know. She's hard to figure out. Me—well, if my dad ever saw it, he'd hit the ceiling. Send me up to my cousin Steve's logging camp to work for, like, the rest of my life." She looked down. "But if you want to send it to him I under—"

"No," Alex said. "Definitely not. It's caused enough trouble as it is. All right, Wendy, you were there. Tell us the story."

 _Rashomon_ is a classic Japanese movie. In it, a terrible crime is committed, and four different people who witnessed the crime—including the criminal!—tell just what happened. Every witness seems sincere. Yet no two versions of the story are the same. None of them agree on just who killed the murder victim—or on the motives of the people involved.

Not so in this case. Sitting tensely in the chair, Wendy told the whole thing over again, and what she said jibed with what Dipper and Mabel had told Wanda. Wendy wound up with her voice mournfully sad: "So, you know, it was 'Truth or Dare,' and—I don't know. Those three girls are sort of Mabel's posse, her bffs, and—it was Mabel's dare, and I should have said something, but I guess I just didn't want to be, you know, the enforcer, putting Mabel down in front of her friends, so I . . . I went along with it. We didn't mean any harm, and I knew it would startle Dipper, but he's so shy in so many ways. I thought he'd even get a chuckle out of it, looking like a guy who's irresistible to the girls." She rubbed her eyes. "I was sleep-deprived, I guess. That's not an excuse, though. I should have stopped it instead of going along with it."

"You posed in it, too," Wanda said, not in an accusing way—just stating a fact.

"Yeah," Stan said. "Fifteen-year-old boy, hot older girl cuddled up to him—big ego boost for most kids. I can see that."

"Stanley!" Ford said.

Grinning, Stan said, "Wendy, I officially apologize for saying you're hot."

Wendy shrugged. Her expression had become woeful, and she didn't speak. But after a moment, she managed, "Wanda, please, please don't let this be a wedge between you and Mabel. I lost my Mom when I was too young to understand. I—God, I miss her every day of my life. If—if she'd been around when I was Mabel's age, I don't know, I think I'd be a better person. Please don't break off with your kids."

Wendy was tough, and she didn't sob, but they could all see unshed tears brimming in her green eyes.

"Maybe I overreacted," Wanda conceded with a sigh. "But really, they crossed a line, and they can't get off scot-free. What should I do?"

"Wait. Dipper's kinda the victim here, isn't he?" Stanley asked. "He wasn't even in on this. He was asleep!"

"Yeah," Wendy said. "He didn't get any sleep until real late, and then when he did drop off, he was dead to the world. See, he was downstairs in the guest room, but Mabel and her friends get real loud."

"Tell us about it," Alex said. "Coffee's ready."

"Anyhow, for part of that night Dipper even went down in the basement and slept for a while on the floor. Or tried to, but the floor's hard. I guess he came back upstairs early in the morning and finally went to sleep in the guest room. We came in on him not long after he'd nodded off."

Alex returned with a tray. "Here you go, Uncle Stanley. Black, two sugars. Wendy, cream, no sugar. Uncle Stanford, water on the rocks."

Wanda said, "You're right. It wasn't Dipper's fault, I do realize that. But if I punish Mabel alone—"

"We," Alex corrected. "We're both in on this."

"But I'm the bad guy if I punish Mabel and let Dipper off. You know that's how he'll see it, and then _he's_ going to resent me. But if I punish Dipper, Mabel's going to be even more furious with me. There's no way out."

"You don't need a way out," Stanford said. "You just need a way through."

* * *

 **4**

They talked for a couple of hours, looking at options. Then when they'd sort of shaped up a plan, Stanford said, "Well, you can only try. For our part, we'll be completely supportive of you and your decision—just reach it together with the twins, that's all we ask. Wanda, when all this has simmered down, reflect that you and Alex have raised two wonderful kids." He chuckled. "Think of all the things teenagers do that they never do! That should be a comfort. This is just a minor peccadillo compared to some shenanigans I've heard of."

"Yeah," Stan said. "Nothin' but a peck of—hey, I remember this one time a few years back when a bunch of Gravity Falls teens about the same age as Dipper and Mabel even stole a cop car right out from under the sheriff's nose! Drove off from outside the school gym and went on a joyride!"

Wendy looked as if she were going to choke on her coffee, but she got the sip down. "No way," she said in a strangled voice—and with a warning glare at Stan.

With a widening grin, Stan said, "Eh, you wouldn't have heard about it. That was before your time, I think. Probably."

The Pineses invited them to lunch, Wanda made some tasty sandwiches, served them along with some of her home-made vegetable soup (she made it in big batches and froze quarts for just such occasions), and Wendy ate with an appetite that told them all she'd been hungry for a long time. Afterward, without being asked, she helped clean up—"I'm used to this, do it all the time for my dad and brothers."

Stanley and Stanford had a short private conversation, and when she came back, Stanley said, "Wendy, listen. You're in no shape to drive another six hundred miles today. Anyways, here's what we're gonna do. My brother's gonna fly back to Portland, as planned. Me, I'm gonna drive your car while you catch some Z's, and then you can take over for a couple hours and we'll rotate, and you won't go to sleep at the wheel on the way back home. That OK with you?"

"She can stay here until tomorrow," Alex said. "We've got the guest room."

With a smile, Wendy said, "That's nice of you, and thanks, Mr. P, but I don't think Mabel and Dipper ought to know that we even showed up. They didn't ask us to do this. Don't tell them, OK?"

Alex looked at Wanda. She smiled ruefully and shook her head. "We won't tell them. I—I suppose our kids must be basically OK if they inspire such loyalty in her great-uncles and you."

"When you're having your talk with 'em," Stan advised quietly, "Start by telling them you love them. That's important. And then when you finish, ask them how they're feeling. And end by telling them you love them again." Gruffly, he added, "I wish my folks had done that with me. I might've turned out different, been somebody important, like my brother here."

Ford put his arm over Stanley's shoulders. "You turned out just fine," he said. "And you are important." To Wanda and Alex, Ford added, "Stanley's our hero."

Stanley gave him a little shove. "Ah, get outa town, Poindexter. Well, we gotta run. I'll have to cash out my return ticket or get a rain check whatever you do, and Ford's got a plane to catch in three hours. Give us a ride to the airport before you and me head off to Oregon, Wendy?"

"You got it," she said.

As Mr. and Mrs. Pines saw them off, Stanford awkwardly hugged Wanda. "Stay brave," he said, giving her shoulder a six-fingered pat. "Give and take, remember. Nobody's going to be a hundred per cent happy, but everyone will be relieved and better off when this is resolved."

Stan's hug was much warmer. "Wanda," he said, "remember, no matter what, the kids love you. Families do get mad at each other. But the good families always make it up. It's hard to forget, but you always can forgive."

Wendy stood awkwardly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Uh—thanks for hearing me out," she said. "I still feel like I should come in for some punishment, too."

"Hah! I got a whole raft of new jokes to tell you as we drive up!" Stan said. He gave the others an evil grin. "Oh, you're gonna pay!"

Wendy started to turn, but Wanda stopped her: "Wait." She took a step forward. "I get too emotional. That makes me feel—weak, I guess. I always try to guard against that, and—and that makes me seem like a harsh, horrible person. But—oh, come here, Wendy."

And she hugged Wendy.

And let's just say . . . some tears were shed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Rescue Me**

 **5**

* * *

Wendy and Stan dropped Ford off at the airport at one-thirty. By four, they were more than a hundred and fifty miles north of Piedmont, with Stan at the wheel of the Dodge Dart. Contrary to his threat, or promise, or whatever it was, he hadn't cracked a single joke all the way up Interstate 5.

Wendy had crawled into the back seat and promptly fell asleep as soon as they had left the airport behind. Stan let her snooze. She woke up, sat up, and yawned. "Thanks, Stan. I probably would've wrecked by now. Where are we?"

"Passed by Willows a little ways back," he said. "You hungry again?"

"Gettin' there. You pulling off the freeway?"

"You're down to less than a quarter tank. I'll buy some gas for you. I saw a sign for a Shell station back there."

"Want me to drive?"

"Feel like it?"

"Yeah, lots better, thanks."

They stopped at the station, Stan filled the tank and paid for the gas—the station owner politely declined to flip a coin, double or nothing—and Wendy took the wheel. Stan watched her for a few minutes. "You're a good driver, Wendy."

"Thanks."

"Hey, you in a hurry to get home?"

"Not particularly." Wendy shot him a glance. "You're not hittin' on me, are you?"

Stan laughed. "Now I know how Dipper woulda felt if that photo had pumped up his ego! Nah, I'm a married man, but if you got an hour to spare, I'd be glad to teach you a few things."

"Like what?" she asked suspiciously.

"'Bout fifteen miles ahead is a place called the Rolling Hills Casino. How much dough you got on you?"

"Forty, fifty bucks, in there. But I don't gamble."

"Let's stop anyhow, just for an hour. No more. You watch me and see if you can pick up a few little tricks—I'll show you, they're easy—and if you don't double your money in that hour, I'll pay it back to you double anyways. Somehow I'm feelin' lucky."

"You're not gonna cheat, are you?" Wendy asked.

Leaning back, Stan said easily, "Nope, never do. Not in a casino, anyhow. One hour, then we grab some dinner, and back on the road. What do you say?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Wendy told him.

She drove for maybe another mile before asking, "Do you think I made a mistake, comin' down to Piedmont? See, I didn't know you guys were coming."

"Meh, it was a spur of the moment thing with Ford and me, too," Stan said. "I woulda called you at the Shack otherwise. Nah, you didn't hurt anything. Matter of fact, I think you connected with Wanda better'n me or Ford. I know you connected with Alex." He chuckled. "In case you didn't know, he's deeply in love with your car. Which drives great, by the way. I'm impressed at how quiet it is."

"Took a lot of work to make it that way. Finally got the engine right where it should be," Wendy replied. She sighed. "You think me and Dipper can hold it together for another two years?"

In a fatherly tone, Stan said, "Kiddo, I can't predict the future. Maybe Dip can, he's got a chunk of Bill Cipher inside him somewheres."

Wendy didn't take her eyes off the freeway. "Come on, straight answer, man. I'm serious."

"OK," Stan said. "Yeah, you can make it, but be careful, ya know? You two tread easy. Time gets closer, you're gonna want to hop in the sack—"

"Stan!"

"Watch the road," he said. "Yeah, take it from me, you are, it's human nature. And I ain't even gonna tell you no. Everybody's gotta lose it some time, 'less they're a nun or a priest or something. But if you mean to hold off, good for you. Not many kids do these days. Only commit. Know what I mean? You gotta commit to each other."

"I think we have already," Wendy said.

"Yeah, well, don't just think. Be sure."

She said sarcastically, "By the way, thanks so much for bringing up that time me and my friends stole Blubs's car while he and Durland were making their public-service video in the gym."

"Oh, was that you?" Stan asked innocently.

"Yeah, of course it was, but how did you know?"

Stan chuckled. "Your dad told me."

"What!"

"Yeah, said he knew all about it. You weren't drivin' the cruiser then, though. It was Fenwick Thompson—"

Wendy yipped with laughter. "Fenwick! No, Franklin!"

"Fenwick," Stan said firmly. "I know his mom well. Lu Thompson. Short for Lumilla. She says the Thompsons have a knack for colorful first names. He may call himself Franklin—heck, I would, they saddled me with a name like Fenwick—but now you know. Anyways, he was drivin', but you were the one leaned out the window and taunted Blubs and Durland. Blubs claims you guys put a thousand miles on his car. How much really?"

Laughing, Wendy said, "We drove it about a mile to Yumberjacks and left it there, because Thompson had parked his mom's car in the lot and that was our getaway. Seriously Stan, how come my dad didn't take a belt to my butt if he knew?"

Stan glanced sharply at her. "He ever do that?"

"Not even once. You know Dad. Just the threat from him's enough—he's never hit me or the boys, but he sometimes made us wish he would, 'cause hearin' him bellow is worse. Tell me—how come Dad didn't smack down on me for that little prank, if he knew?"

Stanley stretched. "Two reasons, Wendy. Number one, Blubs had given him a ticket the week before for going five miles over the speed limit in his lumber rig. Number two, Dan _was_ gonna punish you. He meant to use that as the reason for shippin' you off to your cousin's sawmill or whatever it is for the summer. But I talked him out of that. Convinced him that makin' you work in the Shack would be punishment enough."

Wendy took a moment to absorb that news. "Thanks for that, Stan. Saved my life. Hey, there's the casino sign. Next exit?"

"If you're up for it."

"Take my mind off worrying about Dipper," she said. The place was right off the freeway, architecturally a bastard child of Frank Lloyd Wright's prairie style and something designed by an architect who worked for the Wizard of Oz.

It was the first time Wendy had been inside a gambling den, and the dings and murmurs and yells of triumph and curses of bad-luck Charlies nearly overwhelmed her for a moment.

"You'll get used to it," Stan bellowed in her ear. "Let's buy some credits."

True to his word, Stan took her on only a one-hour tour of the casino. Wendy had a grasp of blackjack and she and her dad and brothers had played poker, but watching Stan play was a revelation. They sat in briefly at three different tables, with Stan counseling her after each of the first two, verbally re-playing the hands with her.

Then at table number three, a low-stakes game of Hold 'Em, Wendy took a seat beside Stanley and they dealt her in.

Eight players and the dealer at that table, two of them Wendy and Stan, five of the other six from the other games they had sat in on. Wendy remembered what Stan had said: They all had tells. The white-haired guy played his cards close to his chest, but he rubbed his lip when he had a good hand and was pretending he was making up his mind, and he did a little quirk-up one-sided smile when he was bluffing on a bad hand. The woman next to her tilted her head right when she was confident, left when she didn't like the cards she held. And so on.

It wasn't cheating, Stan had explained, it was skill at reading people. She might not know which hand any of the players had by the way they held their eyes, but she got a good sense of when to bet, when to check, and when to fold. As she proved over the next half-hour.

Stan made nearly five hundred dollars there, wiping out his losses at the other tables and putting him in the black by about two hundred bucks.

Wendy risked thirty in all and made sixty-seven. Stan had said she'd double her money, and she did a little better than that.

"So," Stan said as they cashed in, "let's get some grub, and you can pick up the tab."

She was willing to do that, but Stan, the old smoothie, grabbed it first with a grin. Then, alternately driving and dozing, the two of them drove the rest of the way to Gravity Falls and got there around midnight.

* * *

 **6**

Friday passed with nothing more than a slight thawing of cold-war tensions between Mabel and Wanda. Wanda offered to make breakfast on Friday morning, but Mabel said that was fine, she just wanted cereal. Dipper went for cereal too, demonstrating solidarity with his sister. However, he at least talked to their mom during the meal. After the first offer and refusal, Mabel didn't have a single word to say.

She drove to school, as usual. Dipper decided not even to wait for the bus. He just walked it. He got there a few minutes before first period began and joined Mabel in home room.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her.

"Still pissed," she growled. "Mostly at myself."

"Come on."

"It's bad enough for _me_ ," she said. "But you're gonna miss seeing Wendy! I don't know why you don't hate me."

"Because you're my favorite sister," he said.

"Yeah, right."

* * *

No track practice on Fridays, so Dipper was planning on riding the bus—but as the students flooded out that afternoon, he stopped when he saw his dad standing outside. "Hi, Mason," Alex said. "Where'd Mabel park?"

"Uh—over there," he said. "Toward the back."

"I see it now. That green's hard to miss. Let's go wait at the car for her."

They got there, he unlocked the Carino, and he got in the front seat. Dipper got in the back. Mabel came toward them, head down, backpack slinging in her hand, and didn't even notice them until she unlocked the driver's door. "Why are you here?" she asked.

"I got home from work early," Alex said. "Wanted to go for a walk, wound up here, and hoped you'd give me a ride home. Dipper just didn't want to ride the bus."

"It smells like barf," Dipper said, picking up his cue.

"It always smells like barf!" Mabel said.

"So did I, when you two were babies," Alex said. "Come on. Let's go home and sit down with your mother and talk this thing out. Everybody's been mad and upset for too long already."

"She's finally gonna lower the boom, huh?" Mabel asked.

"What does that even mean?" Dipper asked.

"Means I'm gonna get my heart torn out and stomped on," Mabel said. "For my own damn good. Like I'm the only person who ever f—uh, screwed up."

"Don't go into this with a negative attitude," suggested her dad. "Slow down. That light's going to change before we get there."

She slowed and stopped at the red. "I can't _help_ being negative, Dad. What's she thinking? Military school?"

"We'll talk."

* * *

They sat in the living room. As with their visitors of the previous day—something neither Dipper nor Mabel knew about—the Pines parents had Dipper and Mabel sit on the sofa, while they took the two armchairs.

Mom started: "All right, I apologize for reacting so strongly. I should have calmed down before confronting you. Mabel, do you accept that?"

Mabel nodded sullenly.

Mom said, "Good, thank you. But you _do_ realize why I got so upset, don't you?"

Mabel nodded again, her face reddening. "Yeah. I guess."

"You didn't want us to get in trouble," Dipper said, trying to help out.

"Something like that," Mom agreed. "All right, let's try something. Mabel, pretend you're the mom. You found that picture in your teenage daughter's things. She's just like you. What would you do as punishment?"

Mabel made a face. "I don't know!"

"Neither do I," Mom said calmly. "Help me out here. Prescribe a punishment and let's think about it."

Mabel crossed her ankles and re-crossed them. "I . . . guess . . . take my driving privileges away? For good?"

"For good? Did the photo hurt anybody?" Mom asked.

"Not 'til _you_ found it."

"All right. The harm wasn't permanent. Remember, you're being the mom. Why should the punishment be permanent?"

Mabel gave her a sideways glance. "'Cause I'm really . . . mad at my daughter?"

Mom shook her head. "I'm not mad any more. I'm concerned. I want to be firm. But I'm not mad now. So—want to change that from a lifetime ban on driving?"

"A year?" Mabel asked.

Dad said, "I think that's still a little harsh. Let me propose a compromise. From now until January first, you'll go back to learner's permit status. You drive only if one of us is in the car with you."

Mabel looked up, hope in her face. "Mom?" she asked in a little-girl voice.

"Is that strong enough for you to remember this?" Mom asked.

Mabel nodded. "Y-yeah." She pressed her lips together hard. "Th-thanks."

"How about me?" Dipper asked.

Mom said, "Ask Mabel. She's the mom right now."

"Dipper didn't do anything," Mabel said slowly. She started to cry silently, tears slipping from her eyes. "He wouldn't even get mad at me. I don't think anything should happen to him. And those b-beer bottles weren't his, or ours. Honest. I really did get them out of the recycling."

"And if Dipper drives the twinmobile in the meantime between now and New Year's?" Dad asked. "You won't get jealous?"

Mabel shook her head. "No." She shrugged and corrected herself: "Yeah, I will, I can't help that, but I'll live with it. I guess that's part of the punishment, huh?"

Her mother asked, "Will you ever do anything like this again?"

"Oh, God, no!" Mabel blurted.

"All right," Dad said. "Dipper, here. You take this for now." He handed Dipper an envelope.

"What's this?" Dipper asked.

"Your airline tickets," Dad told him.

Dipper jumped up from the sofa, his eyes dancing. "For—Dad, thanks!"

"Congratulations, Dipper," Mabel murmured. "Have Teek call me when you see him."

"Mabel, you're going, too," Mom told her. "Keeping you away from your friends is too harsh. You can go. A week from today, both of you will fly up to Portland and one of your great-uncles will drive you to Gravity Falls for Thanksgiving week. Alex and I will see you on Wednesday."

"Yay!" Mabel jumped up and did a victory dance all around Dipper. Then she stopped. "Thank you, guys," she said. "I'm so sorry I blew up like I did. It just—I—it was my fault, but—I know—I'm sorry. I—"

"Wait before you finish that thought," Dad said, holding up a finger. "Some provisos. Number one, no sleepovers! Not for this trip, anyway. Number two, Mabel, you don't drive _anybody's_ car unless your mom or me is in the vehicle with you. Number three, Dipper—this is not punishment, it's just precaution—you can't be alone with any of the girls in the photo. And even if you're in a group with any of them at any time—behave yourself!"

"Aw, Dad," Dipper said, turning as red as Mabel.

"Are we good?" Mom asked.

Mabel threw herself into Wanda's arms to hug her. "No!" she said, laughing. "But from now on—we're sure gonna try!"

* * *

 _The End_


End file.
